Wandering Child
by Hamilcar
Summary: AU. Teenaged Erik takes a young Raoul under his dark wing. Chapter 9: Giovanni's life comes to a close, leaving Raoul and Erik alone once more. Though the situation is not as bad as Raoul fears, his first steps towards independence lead to a troubling end
1. Goodnight Kisses

I do confess that I got inspired for this story by the story Violin by The Grasshopper. Basically, that story gave me the plotbunny:

What if Raoul and Erik knew each other before PotO?

Like in Violin, the ages have been tampered with somewhat but that's pretty much where the similarities end.

Based on a mix of Leroux, Kay and Webber.

Enjoy.

* * *

The sun was still up but it was starting on its descent, stretching the shadows of the trees longer and longer. Raoul was by now completely lost and was beginning to realize that running away like that might not have been the wisest idea. It was getting colder and later and he wasn't at all sure of what to do. 

He sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. A breeze twisted through the forest and he shivered slightly. It wasn't particularly cold, but he wasn't wearing much. His small legs were aching and there was a clammy feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, a bird of some sort screeched behind him and he dashed under a bush as a flutter of wings flew past him. Under the cover of the leaves, he drew his knees up to his chest and began to cry.

Alone now, the four-year-old tried to think of what to do, trying to recall how he'd gotten into such a position in the first place. He had been with his older brother, Phillipe, who was visiting some acquaintance in the town. Something had gone wrong; he'd had a tantrum about something and couldn't even remember what. Breaking free from his brother's hands he'd dashed down the streets, ducking in and out, going between people's legs. He thought Phillipe had followed, but there was no sign of him by now.

Raoul had been angry at Phillipe a lot in recent days and had decided to hide away from him. Running away from his brother and not coming back until Phillipe would treat him better seemed like a sensible idea at the time. He'd gone in and out of the shadows until he'd come to the edge of the city, girded by a forest. The place hadn't seemed nearly as foreboding then as it became and he'd gone in without a second thought, only to get promptly lost. That had been the true order of events, but being both young and frustrated Raoul's mind confused the sequence and left gaps. All he clearly remembered was being angry then running.

By now his childish anger had subsided and all he wanted to do was go home and eat. He wished Phillipe would find him but he didn't know if his brother would realize that he'd gone into the forest. It was beginning to get dark in earnest and he couldn't remember the way out at all. Thinking about this, his fear overcame him and he started to sob. Suddenly, he heard the crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs. A pair of scuffed boots stopped next to the bush.

"Phillipe?" He looked upward, a shadow of hope on his tear-stained face.

"Well, well…" A dark-skinned man growled. "What have we here…"

He grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck and silenced his wail with a meaty hand, dragging him off deeper into the forest.

* * *

Raoul quiver in the corner of a room, his face stinging from a slap. By now he knew enough to understand that it was better if he stayed quiet, so he was doing his best not to sob. In front of him, two men were arguing; a wiry one with a dark red bandanna and a taller, thicker one with greasy locks and a threadbare shirt. 

"What are you going to do with that?" Asked the first, pointing towards Raoul.

"Check around. See if anybody's offering a reward. If not… who knows?"

"We can't afford any ill attention."

"If the family's poor enough they won't come asking and we'll get an extra hand to boot. He's practically old enough to be mucking out stalls. The animal trainers can always use a hand."

"He doesn't look poor, not with those clothes."

"That's my point. The family comes looking, offers a reward, we've been taking 'good care' of the boy, collect and be on our way. I'm sure they're willing to offer quite a bit."

"Well, you'd best allow a few days for that smack you gave him to heal."

"He'll be fine. If they ask, he got it in the forest. If the child says differently…" He glared at Raoul as if warning him not to, "We'll just say that he's confused; which is of course only natural after being lost in the woods and all."

The second, slighter man sighed at the beefier one.

"Very well. But if any trouble comes of this it's on your head."

"Then why share the reward, if you're going to be like that?"

"Just don't get us in to trouble!" The second snapped at his companion. "And where exactly do you intend to keep him? The carts are already full and I can't think of anyone willing to share. Besides, he's probably going to cry all night or wet himself or something."

"Oh don't worry about that," the first said with a rotten grin and a raspy snicker. "I have the perfect place. Why don't we allow him to share a room with our little corpse?"

The second glared.

"It would be kinder to let him sleep with the animals."

"They might step on him. Besides, a good stiff fright might knock the voice out of him."

"Or make him cry louder."

"Not with that other one in there. The skeleton won't permit it."

Skeleton? Raoul wondered. What were they planning to do with him? The cold ball of fear in his stomach grew and he felt numb and nauseated. The heavyset man turned towards him and Raoul let out a small gasp as he was yanked to his feet by the muscular hand.

"Come along, little one; you get to sleep with your very own cadaver tonight…"

* * *

The door clicked shut behind him and Raoul could hear the man's laughter and heavy footsteps retreating away from him. The room was dark thanks to thick curtains hanging over what seemed to be thick iron bars; so he was in a cage. He swallowed and wrung his hands. The other three walls were wooden, painted a dark color with what seemed to be strange symbols all over it. By now it was night; though that made little difference since the fabric would not have allowed any light in anyway. The only source of illumination was a small lamp on a tiny table. 

Raoul stood in the weak pool of light and allowed his eyes to begin to adjust. The more he saw the more frightened he grew, beyond the point of speaking. By now he was afraid he might never see home again, despite the plans to sell him back to his family for a hefty amount. What if they didn't pay? What if they didn't know he was here? What if nobody ever found him again?

Painful thoughts crowded his mind and he started to hiccup quietly, then sob softly. Suddenly he heard a noise from the opposite corner, the sound of fabric rustling. He tried to see into the darkness but mostly failed. All he could make out was a tall, slender shape moving fluidly.

"W… wh… who… who's there?" He asked in a high-pitched, tremulous attempt at a whisper.

"Stop crying," a Voice ordered.

Raoul fell silent and his sobs died in his throat. Never before in all his short life had he ever heard such a Voice, beautiful yet commanding. There was no possibility of contradiction.

The shape stepped closer but Raoul was rooted to the spot in wonder and fright. He couldn't have gone far anyway, as the wall was only a few paces behind him, but he did not shrink from the approach.

"Why are you here?"

Raoul whispered his answer in a reverent tone.

"A man found me 'cause I was running away… and then he said I had to sleep with a skeleton… do you sleep with a skeleton?"

There was laughter from the shape, but not the laughter Raoul was used to; this laughter was dark and bitter.

"Child, I am the skeleton."

Confusion flickered across the boy's features.

"But a skeleton's dead and stuff and has no skin. And you can't be dead!"

"Oh really?" The Voice asked in a dangerous tone. "Would you like to see for yourself?"

Raoul's stomach turned as the shape came closer and closer. The air seemed almost tangibly colder and he trembled. At last the shape stepped into the light.

"LOOK!" The Voice commanded.

His eyes were sunken, shining with a fierce look and his face was completely unmasked. The skin was sallow and thick, scarred and stretched over pointed cheekbones. There was no nose, only a dark hole. Bedraggled locks of dark hair framed the apparition.

Raoul whimpered and shrank back. Erik grimaced; typical.

"Are you… gonna hit me?" The four-year-old squeaked.

Erik sneered maliciously and walked threateningly towards the boy.

"What makes you think that?"

He sniffed and wiped at his nose with his sleeve.

"Your eyes look all angry and I got hit earlier… please don't hit me…"

The teenager's eyes first widened in mild surprised then his expression softened. He knelt by the child who had scrunched himself into a ball.

"I'm not going to hit you," he assured him.

"Really?" Raoul peeked out from his folded arms with glassy eyes.

"Really," he replied in an assuring tone.

Raoul visibly relaxed and then regarded Erik once more. Now the child regarded Erik with a guarded curiosity. He looked at his face from several angles then shook his head.

"You're not a skeleton," he mildly retorted. "You got skin."

"Heh," Erik laughed again, a grating sound. "If you'd like to call it that."

"Can I touch it?"

"What?"

"Your face," the boy asked with a persistent curiosity.

He stretched out a chubby little hand and the gaunt teen shrank back in surprise. The boy's reaction had caught him off guard. The only receptions he'd ever seen were fear, disgust, laughter and morbid curiosity. The boy seemed more friendly and inquisitive than anything else. Was it only the anger in his eyes that had frightened the toddler?

Since he'd been promised not to be hit and since the Voice had softened, Raoul grew braver. Before Erik could stand or move away again, Raoul had crawled onto his lap and started touching him. Erik nearly toppled over but managed to catch himself in him and supported both their weights with his hands.

"Nope," Raoul said as he kept poking the wide-eyed Erik, "You're not dead or bones or all stiff like my aunt that they laid out in the parlor. Is everybody silly?"

"I just… resemble a skeleton with no nose, is all…" Erik responded, still off guard. "You're not… frightened?"

Raoul giggled.

"I think you look nifty! And you promised not to hit me," he said. "And I'm Raoul. And I'm four!" He held up five fingers proudly. "Who're you, mister?"

"I… I'm Erik."

The boy smiled.

"Erik!" He repeated. "I like your name!"

After all he'd been through, the older boy seemed to be the safest person for Raoul to be around. Alone and scared, the toddler latched on to the one person who seemed least likely to hurt him. He played with Erik's hair and the older boy marveled silently.

He was reminded of the dog he'd had as a child, back when he was still living with his mother. This boy was the exactly same as Sasha; wide-eyed, naïve, too stupid to know any better about his looks and faithful to any hand that stroked instead of slapping.

Suddenly, Raoul stopped and yawned.

"Do I gotta sleep on the floor?"

"What?" Erik shook himself out of his reverie of memories.

"Floor. I wanna sleep. Is there a bed?"

"All I have is a coffin…" Erik whispered.

He looked down at Raoul to see his reaction, but the boy was already half asleep, leaning his head against the boy's chest. Not knowing what else to do, he tilted slightly forward and wrapped his arms around the boy. He stood, trying not to jar him too much. Raoul's tiny fingers clutched his shirt front as Erik blew out the lamp and carried him quietly into the darkness on the other side of the caravan car.

Erik gently set the boy inside and wondered if the child would react badly in the morning once he saw where he was. He was a bit wary of what he would do upon waking, but there was only one blanket and the floor was cold and hard. There was really no other option save letting the boy get cold and sore. And after that encounter…

As a rule, Erik did not like people. As a rule, they didn't like him either. He saw them as stupid, foolish and boorish; they saw him as nothing but a monster. This boy though… he had a sweet, empty look about his eyes, a trait that for some strange reason Erik was finding endearing. He hadn't shied away; he'd touched his face. And now he was in his coffin. Besides, the boy was obviously another Gypsy 'find,' a relic of some unfortunate circumstance not unlike himself.

Gently, Erik climbed in next to him and pulled the blanket over them both. The boy snuggled into his chest and Erik felt himself getting surprisingly embarrassed and nervous at the non-violent contact. Usually, the only time anyone touched him was to slap him, and even that had happened less and less as he'd grown older. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt human skin other than his own – he never allowed the spectators to touch him.

Beside him, the boy was warm and his skin was soft. With an automatic motion that Erik barely realized he was doing, he wrapped his arms around the boy who stirred slightly. Suddenly, his eyes opened wide and two bright blue eyes looked up through the darkness at Erik's now shadowy face.

"Kissy?"

Erik froze and went numb for an instant. He looked at the boy's fair face and shook his head, again shocked and stammering.

"What?" He breathed. "What did you say?"

The boy sniffed again and his voice trembled with unspilled tears.

"At home, I get a kiss goodnight… I… sleep better…"

He gulped, unsure of what to do next. Then he cursed his vision for being so good in the dark; Raoul had turned on a look most commonly known as 'puppy-eyes.' Erik felt bewildered; nobody had even wanted to kiss him before, even when he begged, and now this boy willingly asked?

He nervously bent his head and brushed his thin lips against the boy's forehead.

"Now get some sleep," he whispered.

The boy smiled, then lifted his own head and pecked Erik on the cheek.

"Okay!" He smiled, stuck his thumb in his mouth and closed his eyes again, softly snoring in moments.

Erik remained quietly awake and unmoving, his cheek tingling from where it had been kissed, wondering how such a child could have come into the gypsies' possession and into his life.

Could it mean a permanent change? He wondered.

* * *

And that's it for now folks. Review if you liked or even if you didn't. 


	2. A Ransom Unpaid

Good reviews make my world around.

And it's been a few days which means… time for an update! And if you're reading anything else of mine… Soon. I promise. I just get in moods. But soon.

So without further adieu…

* * *

Philippe the Comte de Chagny paced relentlessly back and forth across the carpet of his hotel room. The situation hadn't improved any and his two sisters, continually fretting and worrying, were only making it worse. There was no trace of his younger brother and a day had already gone by. 

How had the little scamp managed to get away from him in the first place?

It was altogether too much responsibility, the Comte thought, to be placed on the head of a young man barely into his twenties. Both parents dead, the estate to manage and now this. He sighed and went to down another glass of brandy when a messenger entered the room with a telegraph on a plate.

"Sir?"

"What is it?" He asked irritably, finishing his alcohol. "You'd better have good news."

"I do sir. It seems that soon after you reported offering a reward, a performer from a local circus came forth saying that a man in his troupe found a blond child wandering in the woods not far from where your grace was walking yesterday. It is most likely him."

"Thank Heaven! This is a relief."

"However, sir, there is one slight detail."

Philippe's eye twitched.

"Detail?" He hissed through clenched teeth.

"Yes. They were rather hoping you would be more… _generous_, sir," the messenger informed, looking for a way to tactfully state the demands so as not to have the count decide to shoot… well, him.

"More generous?" He spat.

He then slammed his glass down so hard it utterly shattered.

* * *

Raoul's eyelashes fluttered and he made a small noise as Erik climbed out of the coffin and cold, chilly air rushed in where his warm body had previously been. It was already light outside and Erik allowed the sun just slightly into the room by means of a tiny shuttered window high up on the walls of the cart. The toddler rubbed his eyes at the modestly bright rays and yawned several times as Erik busied himself around the room. 

"What'cha doin'?" He asked.

Erik breathed a quick sigh of relief that the boy hadn't woken up disoriented or in a panic.

"I'm getting ready for the day ahead," he replied.

"Oh," he said, sitting in the center of the coffin. He shivered slightly. "It's cold," he whined.

'Of course it is,' thought Erik, 'When your parents have no better sense than to dress you in unseasonably thin linens and then you tear them further walking around the woods.'

"Here," he said, reaching into a box and pulling out a thicker shirt. "Take this." He walked over to the coffin and tugged it over the young boy's head. "It's a little bit large, but you should be a little bit warmer."

Raoul smiled and clapped the two long sleeves together. Then, he stretched out his arms to the boy.

"Up!"

Erik smiled and lifted the boy out of the coffin, positioning him on his waist. Suddenly, there was a tiny rumbling sound and Raoul looked at him with his wide, blue eyes.

"Hungry too," he said apologetically.

"Tell you what," Erik said as he put him down, "Why don't you just stay put for a while and I'll go get us both something to eat, alright?"

The boy grinned.

"OK!"

"Now remember, stay put and don't try to leave the cart. Don't move the curtain aside or make too much noise… Trust me, you want to attract as little attention as possible. I'll be right back."

Raoul nodded enthusiastically, once again getting the feeling that it was best to listen and obey when Erik spoke. He toddled into a corner of the room and played with his sleeves, waiting for his companion to return.

* * *

Erik reached behind his head and finished securing the mask that he wore on a daily basis. He stuck to the shadows for the most part anyway, but he wanted to make sure that he was seen as little as possible. Anything less, even among these outcast wanderers, was an invitation to mockery. 

He made his way quietly across the came until he came to the area of the camp where the gypsies were cooking. He planned to simply grab a few pieces of bread and some clean water, then leave. However, he felt a hand press against his shoulder and he cursed his carelessness under his breath.

"Little corpse…" the man who'd found Raoul the previous night began.

"What do you want?" He asked in a voice kept carefully emotionless.

"I wanted to ask you, how did our guest sleep last night?" He smiled a toothy, decayed smile that nearly caused the boy to shudder.

"Terribly," Erik lied, not missing a beat. "He froze in terror and then started to wail until I gagged him."

The man scoffed, and then held out a package wrapped in cloth.

"Here. Mustn't let our guest go hungry."

Erik deftly took the package from his hands then slipped away, taking more care about being seen. The man tried to spot him but couldn't. He frowned. He didn't trust that boy – if that's what you could call him, with a face like that – didn't trust him one bit.

He grunted then went into a nearby cart, slamming the door to it as he went. He didn't see, but he did have good cause to be worried about Erik – the boy was crouched nearly invisibly beneath the cart's single window. Erik suspected that since the boy was being given special treatment, something was afoot and he was determined to find out what.

"They found the brother, you know."

"What about the parents?"

"Dead. There's only the young Comte and two sisters."

"And? Is he going to pay?"

"Heh. He says that he's been generous enough and won't hear of adding a franc more."

"What! Absurd."

"We could get into legal trouble if we keep him."

"I say let them sweat a day or two, talk to the sisters, let them get worked up – you know how women are."

"You'd best not let this go too far."

"Don't worry. The brother will pay up."

"I'm not so sure…"

Erik didn't hear the rest of the conversation, as his whole demeanor had darkened and he was pulsating with rage. He rushed back to his own dark, shrouded cart and burst into to find Raoul playing with the large shirt, right where he'd left him. So the boy would be taken away if the brother paid… but he didn't want to pay more… his own brother and he wouldn't hand over a little extra…

"Erik!" Raoul chirped.

He managed a smile, closed the door and locked it securely, then sat down with Raoul to eat. He opened the package to find a couple small baguettes, cheese and a bottle of milk. He produced a knife and a couple of cups, slicing the cheese and pouring some of the milk into each yet significantly more into Raoul's.

As he watched the boy dipping his bread and eating the soggy mess along with a cheese slice every so often, he thought about what he'd overheard and a dialogue took place in his mind.

_He wouldn't pay to have his own brother back, this innocent child._

**It only makes sense that the brother won't give in to blackmail; they'd increase their demands; kidnappers would learn they could successfully extort money that way. Besides, he did offer some reward.**

_He'll grow up rich and spoiled._

**And what have you to offer him?**

_He… he was kind to me! And now he'll be taken away…_

**Are you that selfish? To take him away from his family, just so that you can have the pleasure of his company? Besides, people change. He might too. **

_And aristocrat… a classic aristocrat, he'll be just like them. _

**You're making excuses.**

_I… I…_

Raoul finished then and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"All done!"

"Good job," Erik replied.

He wiped the boy's mouth with the napkin in which the bread had been wrapped. Just as he finished, a heavy knocking at the door jolted him and sent the boy scurrying behind Erik.

"Corpse!" A thick, grumbling voice came from behind the locked door. "It's almost time for your first show and you'd better be ready."

"I know, I know," the teen grumbled.

With a smooth motion he picked up Raoul and took him to the opposite corner of the room. The boy watched as he moved each of the objects in the room further back then draped a piece of velvet across a bar that stretched across the cart, dividing it into two sections. Raoul stared at him curious.

"What's goin' on?"

"I have to perform," Erik said with a sigh. "You must stay in the back and remain very quiet. Do like you did when I went away before and don't let anyone suspect you're back here."

The boy nodded seriously and Erik paused, wondering if anything had changed with the boy's brother. His pervious thoughts surfaced once more… Shaking his head, he decided that it would be best to focus on the task at hand. He slipped into his performance clothing, a stark white shirt and black mask, then put his finger to his lips and nodded at Raoul, warning him to be quiet. He left the child and stepped into the strip of darkness between the two curtains.

The show began and as it did Erik started to sing. Behind the second curtain Raoul shivered without knowing exactly why. However, just as the song was reaching its climax, the air was filled with the screams of horror and shrieks of frightened delight that always accompanied the unmasking and Raoul could hear no more.

* * *

Erik returned after his performance was done and found the boy scrunched up in the far corner. He walked over and found that Raoul was shaking. He touched his arm. 

"Raoul?"

He looked up at Erik and the teenager saw that his face was streaked with tears. At the same moment, they reached for one another and Erik held the boy close.

"What's wrong?"

"Th… they were… were laughing at you… and screaming… they're mean…"

Erik was speechless and didn't trust himself to move without crying.

A moment passed before he regained his voice.

"Yes… that's what I do, it's my job…"

"Why?" The boy cried. "That's awful! Why don't you punch them?"

"I can't Raoul, they're customers. Besides, there are bars that separate us."

"Then why do you stay here, with mean people? Am I gonna have to stay here and have people be mean to me all the time too? Why do you leave?"

In an instant, Erik's resolve hardened.

"No, you will not have to stay here. Neither of us will. Raoul," he said, looking the boy in the eye, "Your brother will not pay the ransom; he is not coming. But do not worry. I will take us away and we'll go somewhere where we won't ever be laughed at or ridiculed or spat at or abandoned. Do you trust me Raoul? I will take you there. Will you believe that and follow me, quietly and without complaint?

Will you stay with me?"

They locked eyes and the boy shivered for a moment. Then he mutely and solemnly nodded his head.

* * *

Raoul dashed to keep up with Erik; speed was of the essence if they wanted to get away unnoticed. In the distance, the heard the roar and revelry of those gathered around the campfires. Erik, dressed in black with a thick cape covering him, clutched the necessary goods he'd managed to steal from those in the camp with one hand and held Raoul's hand with the other. The slipped in the darkness to the stables where Erik took a handkerchief dipped in a solution, held it over his face and carefully lowered the comatose man to the floor. 

They picked the darkest, swiftest horse and slipped on a bridle quickly. Erik mounted bareback, and then pulled Raoul up onto the beast, marveling at how quiet and behaved the boy was for him. Raoul slipped under the coat for warmth and wrapped his arms as far as he could around Erik, with his hands grasping Erik's shirt and his head resting against his back.

Together they rode into the night and were swallowed by the darkness.

* * *

And that's a wrap. Review – all comments, for good or for awesome, are appreciated. 


	3. The Cherub and the Gargoyle in Flight

MOVIE! GERARD BUTLER!

insert random fan girl screaming here

I'm OK. Really.

I think.

Anyways, you came in here for the new chapter, so here it is in all it's angsty-fluffy glory. :)

* * *

Erik's palms were slick with sweat as he spurred the horse faster and faster, frightened and nervous that they were being followed. He'd used some of the herbs and solutions that he'd found at the gypsy camp, leaving them behind them every so often to throw off the scent. He tried to stick to riding over hard land and went through water whenever possible. Now he recalled why he had never run before.

There wasn't any clear place to run to, pursuit was almost certain and the punishment would be severe if they were caught.

Nevertheless, he gritted his teeth and dug his heels into the horse's side. He wouldn't allow them to hurt him or Raoul, he wouldn't allow it!

Raoul kept clutching the older boy and together they rode through the night until the red of sunrise crept over the edge of the horizon. Erik took them deep into another forest, watching out for any signs of habitation. He leapt off the horse, setting Raoul down first carefully, noticing that the boy was half-asleep. He slipped off the bridle and wondered if it wasn't mostly unnecessary by now. The horse trusted him and he hated to use those things.

On the ground, the displaced aristo was yawning.

"Erik?" He mumbled. "Are we there yet?" He whimpered.

"No, not yet. Stay still, Raoul," he whispered urgently, "Stay still and be quiet."

Raoul obeyed and curled himself up into a ball, edging towards Erik as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The shadows seemed to be closing in all around them and he desperately waited for the boy to finish securing the horse to the tree. As soon as Erik completed his task, he knelt next to the boy, tugging off his cloak and wrapping Raoul up in it. He noticed that the boy was crying and quickly lifted his thin, skeletal hand to wipe away the tears.

"What's the matter? Shhhhh, shhhhh, it's alright," he murmured, pressing Raoul's face against his chest, feeling the tears wet his shirt.

"There… out there… it's all dark…" the boy gasped. "What if there are monsters in the woods? What if they wanna eat me? I'm scared. Will you keep me safe? Will you keep the monsters away so they don't come and gobble me up?"

Monsters.

The boy was afraid of monsters. And he wanted Erik's protection.

Erik was fairly certain that, if compared maskless in the daylight versus every other creature in the woods, he couldn't imagine a sane child not fearing anything more than him. He was the most monstrous in appearance to other people. He had always been so sure of that. Always.

"Erik?" The boy insisted and drew him out of his thoughts.

"Of course Raoul. I'll protect you, forever and always, against anything that tries to harm you."

The child smiled up at him but was still shaking. Erik thought quickly and decided to distract him.

"Watch this!" He whispered to Raoul, then proceeded to draw a colored scarf from his mouth as the boy watched wide-eyed.

It was a simple enough trick, but Raoul was mesmerized and played with the scarf happily, forgetting his fears for a moment.

"Teach me to do that?" He begged as Erik took packs off of the horse.

"In time," Erik replied with a smile.

As the sun rose, Erik made a makeshift place for them to sleep amidst a tight cluster of trees that offered them shelter from the light as well as anything that would pass their way. He covered the ground with one of the blankets that had been attached to the horse, stretched the other from the ground to the side of a tree as a kind of temporary tent. He then scattered leaves over it to hide it better, until it was almost unnoticeable.

He then crawled into the structure where Raoul was already waiting. He slid next to the boy who immediately drew near to him, cuddling closely to him. He then looked up with the same expectant eyes he shown Erik the first night he'd spent in the coffin.

"Kissy?"

Erik pressed his lips against Raoul's forehead again but this time allowed them to linger for a second.

"OK?"

"OK!" Raoul said, kissing Erik back on the cheek.

"Then get to sleep," he instructed once more.

The boy was asleep within moments and so was Erik, exhausted by the day of hard riding and hoping that nobody would find them. They passed the night in one another's arms, a cherub watched over by a gargoyle.

* * *

Miles away, the Vicomte de Chagny was more furious than his manservant had ever seen him in his life.

"What do you _mean_, you don't have my brother?!!!" He thundered at the gypsy, who was acutely aware of the trouble he could cause with the law.

"I mean that when we went to go get him this morning, he was gone, him and the corpse both! They must have run off together – that wretched little skeleton must have kidnapped him or something," he said with a scowl, thinking of the money lost with Erik's departure.

"I don't give a damn about your sideshow freak, I want Raoul NOW!"

"We are doing our best to track them…"

"That's not good enough. I am calling the police," he said, at which the gypsy paled. "I want my brother found.

Or there WILL be hell to pay," he said with a glare at the dark-skinned man.

Phillipe stormed off into his private coach and ordered the driver to take him home. The day had only just started yet already it seemed interminably long.

He was going to need a drink.

* * *

It was late in the day when Raoul was nudged awake by Erik. The day was aging and it was already beginning to get dark, which meant that it was time for them to get started again. He handed the boy a piece of bread which the boy ate without complaint. 

He watched his masked companion preparing the horse without comment and chewed slowly. The food wasn't what he was used to, the ground was cold and hard, he was far from the home he'd always know, his clothes were torn and he was filthy. Yet somehow he felt content. He'd been feeling something strange from the first moment he'd heard the other boy's Voice, the first time those melodic syllables had touched his ears.

Raoul didn't quite understand it and he didn't have the words to explain it, but Erik made him feel happy. He'd grown up in a world where most adults were too busy for him, where affection meant little and where most strangers either slapped him or petted him insincerely. The Voice though… it was soothing and strong, the voice of someone who was at the same time intelligent yet warm, capable and kind. When Erik held him he really felt safe and when Erik spoke, strange feelings swirled inside of him. His face was certainly unique, but not frightening in the same way that the leering, painted faces of women were or the red, bloated faces of the men who frequented his old home, talking in grating or high-pitched voices that smacked of artificiality.

Every touch Erik gave him, every kiss, every word made him feel… appreciated. Like the boy really wanted to be with him, instead of treating him like a burden. He didn't know how to say it or even sort it out clearly in his mind, but at a primal, indefinable level he reached for Erik, respected him and let himself be comforted by him. It was as natural as instinct, like a dog that recognized its master by his scent and touch and knew who was to be trusted intuitively.

The Voice commanded his heart. He would follow it anywhere and do whatever it asked. It filled his whole world with strange, wonderful sensations and he was utterly mesmerized.

"Come Raoul," Erik beckoned as the sun sank and the stars began to appear.

Raoul clambered up behind him and they started off once more.

Erik smiled at the boy for not complaining about the difficult day they had just spent. However, he knew that it couldn't be healthy for them to sleep like that every night. To be honest, it was a miracle that no animals or people had found them and that nothing had happened. It was cold, they were both sore and they needed proper rest and a good meal – especially Raoul. It was a risk, but he was going to have to find a place for them to sleep in the city.

* * *

They rode the night and part of the subsequent day. He forced himself to remain awake and alert but he could tell that Raoul was dropping off. He shifted he boy, seating him in front of him and held Raoul with one hand, controlling the horse with the other. 

As the day went on, they came to a medium sized town, just large enough for someone like him to pass through unnoticed yet not large enough to present the dangers that a big city might bring; dangers such as recognition. He pulled his hat at such an angle to make his face obscured, quickly sold the bridle and found somewhat shabby lodgings whose main appeal lay in the fact that they were cheap and the keeper didn't ask too many questions.

He quietly put the horse securely in the stable, taking their effects with them, and slipped inside with Raoul's hand firmly in his, though the boy was stumbling from fatigue. The bouncing, jolting horse ride hadn't been conducive to a good sleep and both were quite tired. They entered the room in silence, locked the door securely and then flopped down on the bed. Raoul was practically asleep before he even hit the sheets; Erik however took a little more care.

Dipping in and out of shadows, going back and forth to a well outside, he managed to fill the tub and basin in the corner of the room. The water was tepid, but it was going to have to do. He hated to bother Raoul, who was already snoring, but knew that he would sleep more comfortably once he was clean and tucked in tightly. He roused him and coaxed him into the tub.

"Come on," he called softly.

"A bath?" Raoul frowned.

Like most boys his age, he had an instinctive aversion to things like the combination of soap and water.

"Yes, Raoul," Erik said with a smile. "You are quite smelly and I'm afraid I must insist."

"But… but…" He liked Erik, but even then he was hesitant; had it been Phillipe, he would have been kicking and screaming by now.

"Well then," Erik said with a sigh, "If you will not come I shall simply have to go over there and get you myself and dump you in."

Raoul clambered down from the bed, tossed aside his torn, stained garments and climbed in, shivering a little. Erik helped him to bathe as swiftly yet as thoroughly as possible, with a pleasant smelling soap he'd bought earlier when he'd sold the bridle. He washed the dirt off the boy's skin and the grease out of his hair, drying him off with a thin towel that had been left in the room by the pitcher and basin. Erik then took a quick bath himself, as Raoul pulled a clean white shift that Erik had brought over his head.

Once they were both in plain yet clean shirts, Erik tucked Raoul in then joined him once more.

Raoul stared up at the ceiling, his eyes wide, enjoying the clean and slightly fragrant scent left by the soap.

"Erik?" He asked.

"Yes?"

"Erik, I can't sleep. Sing me a lullaby."

A lullaby? Erik swallowed. He didn't even know if he could remember any, not as though his mother had taken the time to sing to him…

"I don't know any lullabies," he told the boy.

"Then sing what you sang the other day," Raoul suggested.

It wasn't a lullaby, the boy wanted. He just wanted to hear Erik's voice again, the lulling sound of the perfectly pitched notes.

So Erik sang for him, sang him songs he'd picked up from the gypsies, church songs learned from Fr. Mansart when he'd lived with his mother, folk songs he'd heard from the children who passed by the circus, any songs that came to mind. Raoul listened and listened to them until gradually his eyes started to shut and he drifted off once more. Erik smiled then kissed him goodnight.

He however did not get to sleep so easily. It was a while before he could calm himself enough to rest, as he worried about money and a place to stay. They couldn't stay around here, the gypsies and perhaps even that bothersome brother would be searching. Perhaps it would be best to go further south, maybe even into another country, where no one would recognize them and they could have some privacy.

The issue of his face still pressed, though. The boy was only four, which left it up to Erik to earn a living. He didn't want to beg and he didn't want to return to his former profession of traveling freak. But for a masked person, what else was there?

Who would trust him?

How would they survive?

* * *

And that's the end of that chapter. Until the next time. 


	4. Another Farewell

And after an absence of only 4 months… lazy author

Anyway, I'm back for now and have a new chapter for your perusal and enjoyment.

Enjoy.

* * *

Erik kept his head down and finished the last few notes of the piece he was playing. He made sure that his face was covered, obscured by both a makeshift mask of black cloth and a hat pulled down over his head. 

At his side, Raoul stood dutifully, making his blue eyes as wide as possible and holding the battered hat out in front of him. He tried to be as sympathetic in appearance as he could, and his efforts as well as Erik's songs were rewarded with coins tossed into the cap by passing adults.

Erik nodded to him and put the violin back in the box while making their way off the street. Raoul fished the money out of the hat and gave it to Erik.

"Here," he said quietly. "It looks like we got a bit more than yesterday."

The other looked at the coins and nodded in affirmation.

"Yes, we did. We chose a better place this time I think." He smiled and ruffled the boy's hair, causing Raoul to laugh. "Shall we get something to eat and get home?"

"Yes!" Raoul responded enthusiastically.

His companion smiled and counted out coins, withdrawing a list from his pocket.

"Here's the list for the next few days," he said. "Think you can get it all?"

"'Course I can," Raoul replied proudly. "I do all the time, don't I?"

Erik nodded.

"Yes you do. You're a good boy. Now let's get going – I'll be watching you from the shadows and making sure you stay safe, but keep your wits about you anyway, all right? I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Don't worry."

"You couldn't stop me from worrying if you tried," Erik said with a light laugh. "Now let's hurry!"

They walked off down the street, Erik keeping his head down and clutching Raoul's hand tightly, with the violin case in the other hand. Raoul held on to the list and the money and they went as subtly as possible, trying to avoid any attention. To the rest of the world they were just another couple homeless orphans wandering the streets. Nevertheless, they did their best to stay out of danger.

After all, to one another they were family.

Raoul stopped by each of the necessary vendors in succession and gave Erik the packages to carry when his small arms grew too full. Once each item had been obtained, they walked back to the dim little attic room that they managed to rent for a few days from a middle-aged widow who ran a boarding house.

They entered quietly, avoiding the more stationary residents, and locked themselves in their garret. Erik lit the small lamp and extinguished the match as he regarded Raoul in the dim light. They'd been running for months now and the boy was already, by his own dim reckoning, five now.

Those few months had changed him. His aristocratic, pale skin was now in a near-permanent state of dirtiness and smudging. Oh Erik tried to keep him clean, as clean as possible, but it was more effort than it was worth most of the time to make him sparkling. Furthermore, the long days outside riding on the back of the horse and the time spent playing outdoors wearing only sparse clothing when possible had made him tan. His golden hair, also much dirtier and matted, had grown out to a length Phillipe would never have allowed. He'd lost weight as well, losing much of the plump, babyish look he'd had when they first met.

However, his changes were far from being merely superficial. He'd become more self-sufficient. As they traveled from town to town, Erik's one possession of worth – his violin – earned their living. He performed on the street for money or picked pockets if times were especially bad. Raoul, however, was necessary since Erik wanted as little contact with the world as possible. He had to perform, there was no other way, but there was also no sense in creating unnecessary risk wandering about.

So Raoul served as his liaison to the world at large. Erik guided him through the tasks the first few times, but need forced Raoul to quickly learn how to count money, make purchases and behave furtively.

He'd also picked up a few other skills from Erik. The older boy began to prepare their meal and watched as Raoul went into the corner and practiced what Erik had taught him about hiding objects in the folds of clothing. He played with a scarf and a spoon, seeing how well he could hide them and how easily he could pull them out again.

"You're doing well," Erik commented nonchalantly.

Raoul beamed.

"Thanks! And you're going to teach me how to do the voice thing?"

"Yes. You'll get a ventriloquism lesson after dinner – I promised, didn't I?" Erik said with a smile. "Dinner's almost ready; you'd best wash up."

The boy went to the basin in the corner and splashed his hands around in the water.

"Soap." Erik said with just the slightest note of reprimand.

Raoul sighed and repeated the process with a hard, small lump of soap. He washed off the film of lather and dried his hands, coming over just as Erik was setting down the bowls.

"Erik…" Raoul frowned. "You forgot to take it off again. I don't like it. I don't like when I can't see you."

Erik looked up.

"I did, didn't I? I'm sorry; you're quite right. And now that you mention it, it _is_ uncomfortable." He reached behind his head and unfastened the mask, setting it aside on the floor. "I just get so used to wearing it during the day that it slips my mind on occasion."

The younger boy pouted.

"I wish you didn't have to…"

"I know, Raoul. I know," Erik sighed as he spooned soup into the boy's bowl. Because of their living quarters, he couldn't have a real fire – just a fire-bowl of sorts with coals – and the soup was only modestly warm. The boy took it and they ate without complaint in the dim light of the room.

After finishing dinner and wiping down the dishes, Raoul scooted onto the mattress and waited for Erik to join him. The older boy came over as soon as everything was packed up and put in its proper place. He focused his attention on Raoul and they started practiced throwing voices onto walls and making it come out of a lumpy monkey doll that Erik had rather shabbily sewn for Raoul.

Raoul tried for saying a few words over and over without moving his mouth and clapped when he finally succeeded. Erik smiled and after about an hour noticed the boy starting to get tired. He tousled his hair and told him that was enough and that it was time to get to bed, to which Raoul sleepily nodded agreement.

They undressed and put on their standard white sleeping shirts. Together they pulled the thin covers over themselves and shifted around on the mattress, trying to get comfortable. Raoul curled up and clutched the monkey doll affectionately. It was a far cry from the expensive (often imported) toys Phillipe gave him every Christmas but he adored it and kept it with him, his tight squeezing contributing further to the doll's dilapidated state.

The pair kissed one another good night, as they did every night, and fell asleep in the dark little loft.

* * *

The uniformed man shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of the richly dressed man before him. 

"Sir, I am sorry but nothing has turned up."

"_How!_" He thundered at the man. "How difficult could it _possibly_ be to find one small boy who can't run far and a disfigured circus freak?"

"Sir, we lost them and there are many orphans wandering the streets of many towns. We have no reports of where they went or what direction they might have headed in and they could have gone in any number of directions – to Spain, German, Italy, over the channel even…"

"I want him FOUND!"

The gendarme sighed.

"We only have so much clout. And it's been a while. I'm sorry sir. They were already so far gone when you even contacted us and really, at this point…" He shifted. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"He's not dead," Phillipe insisted. "He cannot be dead."

"Sir, I admire your fortitude and your hope. However, there is also a level of pragmatism… letting go…"

"He's not dead!" Phillipe muttered and faced him angrily. "Get out. If you can't solve the problem, I will find somebody who will."

The policeman turned and walked out of the door.

"As you wish, sir."

* * *

Erik woke Raoul up by gently shaking him. 

"Come on… time to get up…"

The boy looked at him sleepily then yawned and crawled out of bed.

"What's going on?" He murmured quietly, splashing water over his face and wiping it with a cloth to dry it.

Erik tied his mask on and began to pack up their possessions.

"We're leaving today," he replied.

"Why? I thought we were staying a little longer…"

"So did I." He sighed. "But something just doesn't feel write. I know, it's hard. Just… I've learned to trust my intuition.

And I think it's time to go."

Raoul nodded wordlessly. After all, if Erik thought that it was time to leave, then it probably was. His advice had never led them wrong before and Raoul wasn't about to protest. They finished getting packed and dressed, left the money for their bill with the woman who was busy making breakfast and set out on the road. They took the horse out of the stable after giving the animal a feeding and were about to set off when Erik's fears very nearly came true.

As Erik was cinching the packs on to the horse a figure stepped out of the shadows – a filthy man who leered at him and looked all too familiar.

"You!" Erik gasped, recognizing the gypsy who'd held both him and Raoul captive so many months ago.

"You thought I wouldn't come looking, little corpse?" He sneered. "You were wrong. And that little brat's brother is offering quite a bit for him at this point.

So where is he? And why don't you just hand him over?"

Erik swallowed and started to panic just slightly.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," he replied. "I ran away. I have no idea what 'brat' you're referring to."

The older man withdrew a knife and Erik began to back away, trying not to startle the horse.

"You're not fooling anybody, little corpse. Come now. Where is he?"

"Behind you."

The man turned around and focused on the boy who'd snuck up behind him. There was a flash of silver and then of crimson, but Erik hardly noticed. Instead, he grabbed a horseshoe from the side of the stable and slammed it over the man's head.

He slumped down, clutching at his arm which was bleeding profusely as he slid into unconsciousness. Raoul stood there, holding a bloody kitchen knife and looking at Erik with a wide-eyed expression. Without thinking, Erik grabbed him, placed him on the horse, mounted and rode off before anyone could discover what had happened.

"Raoul… how… what did you…"

"I don't know!" Raoul gasped, equally dumbfounded. "You were showing me how to hide stuff in my clothes and so I hid some of the spoons and forks and knives and then he threatened you and he had a knife so I just took one and put it in his arm and he dropped his and then you hit his head…"

Erik nodded and saw a picture begin to take shape in his mind.

"Well, it's too late now. Let's just hope that he was unimportant enough that not much of a fuss will be made. Nevertheless, we shouldn't stick around here. We need to get away."

Raoul held on tightly.

"Erik… did I do something wrong?"

Erik sighed.

"He attacked us. So… I suppose not. But Raoul? Don't do things like that carelessly. OK? Promise me you'll be more responsible…"

The thought gradually dawned on him that Raoul might have killed the man, even without meaning to. Perhaps he would have deserved it. But, Erik realized, Raoul was only five even given the benefit of the doubt. Though his exact age was unknown, he was much too young to be shouldering the responsibility for what he did or might have done back there. True, they were managing to survive on the road.

But it wasn't a good life. Not at all. Guilt crept over Erik and he drove the horse faster.

"Are you mad at me, Erik?"

"I'm mad at myself… Mad that I can't give you more security. Mad that you're not living the life you should be."

"But I like my life! Don't you want me any more?"

Erik smiled bitterly.

"I know you do… And I do want you. I care about you. Don't think I don't. It's because I care about you that I want something better for you."

Raoul smiled optimistically and hugged Erik as they rode.

"It'll be better, just you wait. As long as we're together, it can only get better."

Erik nodded and hoped his optimism could be well founded. He wasn't sure at all, himself. The future held the answer for both of them and they rode towards it, leaving behind the body of a man, part of Raoul's innocence and, as the hours wore on, France altogether.

* * *

And there we go. Next chapter – another familiar face from Susan Kay's novel. :) 

Review if you liked – and even if you didn't.


	5. L'Ange et le Diable

Another day, another chapter.

Here it is.

Enjoy.

* * *

Lightning flashed as the door opened and the man entered the bar dripping wet. He slumped against the counter and waved over the bartender. Leaning in, he mumbled his order and the bar tender nodded and hurried away to get it. On of the men sitting further down the bar looked at him. Outside, the rain pounded the roof and thunder cracked.

"Louis?" He said with a gruff, throaty voice of concern. "What in the hell happened to you? You're as pale as flour. What's going on out there?"

The man gasped and took the drink the bartender held out to him. He gulped down the alcohol, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and gave the other man a ragged look. His eyes were bloodshot as though he'd been running for most of the night.

"Hell is right. I saw them!" He managed to croak.

"Them?" The other frowned. "Who is 'them?"

"L'ange et le diable!"

The crowded bar, normally full of casual mutterings and low conversation suddenly slipped into silence.

The companion's eyes grew wide.

"L'ange et le diable? Mon Dieu. Sit down, sit down, and tell us what happened out there." He motioned to the bartender and had him bring over another round. "I'll pay for it. Now tell, tell!"

The man took a look, deep drink and sighed. He coughed and then began his narrative.

"I was going to visit my mother, as I do quite often as you know of evenings, what with her rheumatism. It happened along the road side; I was there and saw all of it. I was taking Madeline, my old horse, and I was going down the old road by the mill. When we got to the mill, just past the bridge, the storm was already going pretty good.

A horse was stalled there, in the ditch on the side of the road. A tall figure was trying to coax the horse out of the ditch while there was a smaller figure situated on the back. Though he was talking in a voice that was low and quiet… that Voice! Such a Voice as you've never heard in all your lives mes amis.

I slowed down, sure that it had to be them! But just at that time, out of the darkness, a group of men emerged. They demanded the horse and money. Seemed to find it amusing, two people so young traveling out on their own. I couldn't see much, but there were rifles and knives…

Then the Voice laughed. But it wasn't he who moved; no it was the smaller… I sat there frozen, watching it unfold… When he jumped the hood fell from his head and he had such hair, like spun gold. He was so young too, couldn't have been much more than seven! But the way he whirled around it was though he was a man possessed! Flashes of blades sprang from nowhere; he spun so fast the men could hardly see… Cries of pain filled the night and there was a sudden whinny as the other mounted the horse.

The horse reared and in a flash of lightning I saw his face… everything gone! The men ran and the other joined the Voice, the one with the impossible face of a corpse, no nose and sunken eyes… The other was so much younger, like a little seraph with gold hair and blood all over his cloak.

The Voice spoke to me.

'You will not hinder us, monsieur.'

And with that… they were gone."

The men remained silent for a moment until one of them broken the silence with the question that all were wondering.

"So… which is the Angel and which the Devil?"

* * *

Raoul lifted up the blanket and was about to crawl into bed when he heard Erik's Voice behind him. He froze and looked around sheepishly.

"Erik?" He said with a smile.

"Raoul," said Erik carefully, "What have I told you about sleeping with knives?"

The boy looked down and mumbled a response.

"What was that?"

"That I shouldn't do it because I could get stabbed in my sleep."

"That's right. Now Raoul, be honest. Are you sleeping with any weapons?"

He hesitated.

"Maybe…"

"Take them off now, please."

Raoul sighed and started to pull an assortment of pointed objects from various places in his multilayered clothing. They were on the road so he hadn't bothered to get fully undressed and thus had seemingly endless folds and pockets from which to withdraw them. As he took out each one he placed them on the bedside table next to him which was rapidly filling up.

"But Erik, what if I have to do something during the night? What if someone tries to rob us again?"

"The table is quite close enough to reach. I'm more worried about you turning over and injuring yourself."

"You don't have to worry!" He said, removing the last one and sitting down on the bed with a pout. "I'm good at this! I know what you told me about hiding things…"

Erik sat down on the bed next to him and kissed his forehead.

"I'm your older brother. It's my job to worry about things like this." Then he cast a baleful glance at the table. "Raoul, how many of those things are you carrying with you?"

He shrugged, doing his best to look nonchalant.

"I'm not sure… lost count…"

Erik sighed.

"I thought we agreed on no more than ten, Raoul. I'm counting thirteen just sitting here. Now how many were you hiding?"

Raoul paused then sighed.

"Eighteen."

"EIGHTEEN!" Erik gasped. "There is no possible reason why on earth you would need that many!"

"But some of them are small!" Raoul protested. "And some of them are made for throwing and I can't get those back all the time…"

"Eighteen. Raoul, what am I going to do with you?"

The boy gave him a winning smile.

"Tell me a story and then stay here for the night?"

"There are two beds, Raoul, there's no need…"

"I know. But I like having you close by!"

"Raoul…"

"I know! But… just this once?"

"OK. What story would you like to hear?"

"Something new. And long."

"Something new and long. Well, that's a fairly tall order, young man. But I think I know a story that might just do the trick…"

The evening wore on and Raoul fell asleep to the tale of a young man named Ivan and a little humpbacked horse.

* * *

The sun coming over the horizon gradually illuminated the room and Raoul wasted no time in springing out of bed, splashing his face with water and refitting himself with the blades he'd collected over the years. Each dagger had a story, each knife a tale, and all of them had been spattered with blood at least once. The boy hadn't killed… yet. And while he only ever drew out of self-defense, Erik worried about him.

The roads were dangerous and the two lone boys were frequent targets. Since that first time, Raoul saw the value of learning how to handle a blade and learned, at first in secret but then later blatantly, to throw and wield them with expertise. He practiced until his body was trim and used his height to his advantage, adding it with speed and agility to make himself a quick and small figure, impossible to pin down. Most people didn't expect a child to fight, which worked out to their advantage; such people were more surprised, more willing to run.

As he replaced the last of them, he joined Erik outside. The older teen had already fitted the horse and was waiting in the wan light of dawn.

"Come along, sleepy," he teased lightly.

The boy flushed just slightly.

"I got up in plenty of time!" He responded, climbing back on to the horse. "Where are we headed?"

"The Italian border."

The boy sighed.

"It was nice to be back in France though. Spain was OK… But I'm going to miss France."

Erik swallowed and nodded.

"I shall miss it too. And perhaps we shall return, after a time. But for now… it is not good for us to stay here."

"Why?"

He didn't tell the boy but the rumors going around were not good. Word was bound to travel far, perhaps even reach the ears of those from whom they had escaped. That would not do. Yet he did not wish to frighten the boy unnecessarily – or give any unneeded clues to a dim, semi-forgotten past.

"There's not enough opportunity here, and it's getting too familiar," He replied in a half-truth. "Besides, don't you want to see what Italy is like? It's a new place! An adventure!"

He'd hit upon the right words to say. Raoul's face lit up with excitement at the prospect of a thrilling escapade.

"Yeah! So where will we be going?"

Erik shrugged and spurred the horse forward.

"Here and there. Venice, Naples… Rome, the Vatican perhaps. Lovely architecture everywhere and very good wine as well. Not as good as some of the Loire valley vintages, but still – something to try. There's good food too."

Raoul nodded, though he knew that Erik would probably find more to enjoy in Italy than he would. 'Architecture' meant that they would spend endless hours, meandering and looking at buildings, Raoul staring while Erik explained the history behind each one and made mental notes about how each was build and decorated.

Even so, he could make his own fun. Something exciting always happened when he and Erik went somewhere. As they went along the road following the coast, he thought of something.

"Erik – Venice is a city on water, right?"

"Yes, it is."

"Can we take a ride in a gondola when we get there?"

He laughed.

"A gondola?"

"Yes!"

"Perhaps. But why the sudden interest in that, of all things?"

Raoul made an indifferent noise.

"I don't know… Just that ever since you described them I've wanted to ride in one."

Erik nodded.

"Very well then. You shall have your gondola ride."

* * *

It was very early in the morning when Giovanni saw them. He'd woken up for the express purpose of being alone and yet there they were; two figures sitting about in the dawn's radiance.

The taller one seemed to be examining the site, touching the stones and looking about, as if determining whether or not he should give it his approval. The other, much smaller, was going from stone to stone, playing about as if dancing to a tune that only he could hear.

The absorbed nature of the first kept him from noticing much and Giovanni's eyes were fixed on his curious behavior. He didn't notice the second slip away and it wasn't long before he felt a pricking at his back.

"Why," asked a high, young voice, "Are you watching my brother and me, _monsieur_? I should hope you do not mean us mischief…"

So, as you can tell, time has passed. And here were see the bit of Kay's book enter in to the picture. Hope you enjoyed. More updates to come – and hopefully they'll be soon.

* * *

All reviews welcome. :) 


	6. The Mason's Home

Huzzah for updates. :) May there be many, many more.

But for now, enjoy this one.

* * *

Giovanni was very grateful for the presence of the second, older boy. The younger one had been nearly ready to slit his throat but he back down at the immediate request of the other boy. Honestly, it didn't surprise him – for one so young his Voice carried an astonishing measure of authority. Upon his behest the younger boy immediate withdrew and bounded to his side.

The boys had intrigued the aging architect and the second boy was much more prone to civil conversation. The younger, whom he discovered was named Raoul, hung behind the older, Erik, in a role that seemed more fitting for his apparent age and Giovanni engaged Erik in discussion. They were, he found out, two orphans and runaways with dubious pasts who were simply trying to make it as best they could. They claimed to be brothers – and with the one wearing a mask, he couldn't tell for sure – but somehow he doubted it.

Despite that possible lie and the implication that hung in the air of what they'd done on their travels – thieving among other possibilities – Giovanni felt a great deal of sympathy towards the two. The older was somewhat withdrawn and the younger quick to anger with others, leading him to believe that they'd encountered many reasons to distrust other people. He invited them to accompany him and noticed their reactions, Erik hanging his head and preferring to remain out of sight, Raoul giving mistrustful, dark glances to even casual passersby.

They stopped at a café and he treated them to lunch. They both had large appetites but he didn't mind. They probably didn't get much to eat since their means of earning, even when supplemented with stealing, were undoubtedly limited. After he had fed them and they had shared what little of their past they were willing to tell of, he took them around the city since he was already somewhat familiar with it. He took them up and down the walkways, through streets and inside beautiful buildings. He took them on a ride in a gondola which Raoul seemed quite enthusiastic about. And he told them of his job as an architect and the work he did, a pursuit which seemed to interest Erik highly.

It was then that he considered taking the boy in as an apprentice. It was a fool thing to do, and he knew it, but there was something about the youth that simply compelled him. He would have been surprised a day or two ago if someone had told him he would offer to take in two nearly complete strangers. It surprised him even more when Erik, giving his 'brother' a long, thoughtful look, decided to accept.

They went with Giovanni and for the first time in a long while the two had something which could be called a 'home.'

* * *

Raoul was perturbed by the sudden lack of freedom and the third party who seemed to be intruding on their highly exclusive relationship.

"Why did you say yes? We were fine, just you and me!"

"No," Erik replied calmly. "We were not. The road is no place for a boy like you to grow up on. You will need things. And education. Experience in dealing with other people. A family."

"But you are family! And I deal with other people – I'm with you all the time!"

"That is not what I mean. You need… better examples. There are things that I'm just not good at, that I can't teach you Raoul."

The boy pouted.

"I don't believe that. There's nothing you don't know or can't learn."

Erik gave him a small smile.

"Just go along with it. For me?"

He heaved a sigh.

"OK."

"It's not often that you meet someone like him. He can teach me, really teach me, about the proper way to do things."

"I guess…"

"And he didn't… he didn't ask about it."

Raoul paused to consider this, and finally nodded and settled in Erik's arms in the back of the carriage. He wasn't necessarily comfortable with having another person filling in Erik's fatherly role. However, Giovanni had not asked Erik to remove the mask or inquired about what was beneath it, which went a considerable way towards earning the boy's trust.

By and large, Raoul had discovered, there were two kinds of people. There were people who shunned Erik for wearing a mask but screamed when he took it off, and there were those who cared about him. Until then, he hadn't realized that the second category could be composed of people who were more than just him. In a way that befit his age, he assumed that there was Erik and himself versus society at large which was irreconcilably opposed to their existence, Erik's in particular and Raoul's by correlation, and therefore out to get them.

Giovanni's overlooking of Erik's mask was a definite step in the right direction towards not being one of that horrible throng who either ignored or persecuted them. The fact that he was male was also helpful. Men would at least stand up and fight. Women, if they ever saw Erik's face, would run away or scream and faint, which was worse because he knew how that hurt his brother. He could fight an attacker or verbally parry an insult, but the sheer horror of a scream was nothing he could combat.

The architect lived alone and worked with men. A good sign, not having any women around.

Women, Raoul thought, were horrid creatures. Erik was always a gentleman to them, no matter what, and he could never quite understand why. He had once described the kindness his nurse had shown him when he'd smashed a mirror and Raoul begrudgingly admitted that she might be the exception to the rule. That did not, however, negate the rule. Women were simply not to be trusted.

Raoul closed his eyes and began to nod off in Erik's lap.

"Wouldn't the world be marvelous if there were no women…" he muttered sleepily.

Erik stroked Raoul's golden hair and sighed. The boy was sleeping, breathing in and out softly, within moments of closing his eyes.

"Oh Raoul…"

* * *

Erik was immensely glad that Raoul could finally have a normal place to grow up in, at least for the moment, at least until some unforeseen circumstance might precipitate their leaving. Nevertheless, it had been too long since he'd been able to give the boy a warm and comfortable room. Now they were in one of the most lavish rooms Erik had ever stayed in, even nicer that they one he'd had as a boy. Raoul had been in nicer places but he couldn't remember them and no place mattered very much to him unless Erik was there as well.

The architect was evidently well to-do and had designed his own home. The room they were in was large and spacious, with two four-poster beds and rich wood furniture. There were blue drapes and light blue carpet, all of which suited them quite well. Initially, not wanting to be any trouble, Erik had said that he would be glad to take the cellar. He merely wanted Raoul to have his own space. Raoul, however, had pitched a fit and declared that if Erik was going to stay in the basement then so was he and he'd lock himself down there. Erik relented and suggested that they take neighboring rooms, but Raoul wanted them to share a room.

They eventually reached a compromise in which they took one of the larger bedrooms and Giovanni and Erik moved a second bed into it. The man allowed Erik the basement as well, since he enjoyed tinkering but didn't want to clutter up the beautiful room with his odds and ends.

It was all very strange to the two. Raoul had vague feelings of uneasiness at first, feeling twinges of déjà vu between Giovanni's home and a house he could not quite remember. Erik wasn't used to the treatment he was receiving. Giovanni's insistence on getting them clothing and gifts was all quite odd, and he didn't quite know what to make of the man's generosity. Not even his own mother had been so good to him and the suspicions he'd had about the man's motives gradually began to erode away in the face of his sincere munificence.

Giovanni merely marveled at the prodigious talent Erik displayed when it came to inventions and music and nearly any technical pursuit including architecture that he set his mind to. He was quite fond of Raoul as well, an energetic boy whose love of physical pursuits was second only to his affection for Erik. He was a decent singer, to be sure, and Erik had taught him some tricks. However, there was no doubt that his athletic prowess far outstripped his artistic talents. He could appreciate Erik's skill but could not reach it fully.

Together they seemed to strike a wonderful balance, two sides of a whole, a single complete soul that resided in two bodies. Raoul, both obedient and obsessively protective, and Erik, a sensitive teen who managed to uphold responsibilities and burdens that no child should ever face, were so very in tune with one another that it was hard to imagine one without the other.

Slowly, as the days turned into weeks, he began to think of them as the sons he'd never had. Raoul started going to a small, local school and Erik was progressing rapidly under his tutelage. He had talent such as Giovanni had never seen before and he was honored to have him as a student. He was also relieved that he'd prevented the two from ending up somewhere far worse than the streets of Venice. They had acted as adult as they could, forced to by circumstance, but he knew as he watched them living under his roof that both Raoul and Erik were still children who, while deprived of childhood, needed care from someone besides each other.

He could not have asked for a more perfect situation. Everything was wonderful and it would seem to him later that it was almost too wonderful, like a calm before a storm. Though he did not know it, jealousies were brewing and rumors were starting to spread. Not only that, but other even were set into motion that would tear viciously at their relationship. The first visible clouds began to appear on the horizon on a beautiful, sunny day. Raoul was playing in the backyard with the new dog Giovanni had gotten for them and Erik was playing at the piano when a messenger came to the house. Giovanni read the letter and placed it down with a trembling hand, filled with an unaccountable sense of foreboding.

Luciana, his daughter, was coming home.

* * *

And that's where I'll leave it until the next time! Luciana's appearance is coming and it's not going to be pretty… To find out how it goes, stick around and an update will show before too long. Hope you enjoyed – reviews are great appreciated.


	7. Luciana

I am not dead yet – and neither is this story.

OOO

It was bad enough that Luciana was coming and worse that she caught him unawares. Giovanni had a difficult time working himself up to telling the boys that there would be another presence in the house and felt even worse when he saw their reactions. Erik did not exhibit any signs of disturbance, at least not publicly, but Raoul had taken to staying as near to Erik as possible, as though he was guarding him in some fashion.

"You must go to school," Erik sighed as he examined the mason's tools. "Otherwise you will fall behind."

"I'd rather watch you cutting the stones," he whined, kicking his bare feet in the air restlessly.

"No Raoul. First of all, it's no place for a child. Second, Giovanni has gone to great expense to see that you get an education. Don't be ungrateful."

"If he cares so much, why is he bringing in something else?"

"Do not judge her before you meet her," he replied carefully, trying to mask his own anxiety.

"She's a _girl_," Raoul snapped, as if that ended that.

"Go to school," Erik said in his Voice, and Raoul slid off the bench and went inside the house to clean up.

From inside the house, Giovanni looked through the window and into the yard in the back where Erik was working on a project for Raoul, surprisingly elaborate for the adolescent's age. It was to be a fountain that, when finished, would combine Raoul's two favorite stories from the old book of Greek myths that Giovanni kept in his library, the stories of Persephone and Ganymede. His inward marveling at Erik's skill was cut short when Raoul came in, slamming the door.

"Be careful, Raoul," he gently admonished, knowing that if Raoul listened it was more likely because Erik had told him to obey than out of any affection. The boy had become noticeably colder since the announcement of Luciana's arrival.

The next day brought news worse than Luciana's homecoming; she arrived early with no time for any of them to get prepared.

She arrived at the house while Giovanni and Erik were hovering outside of the door, waiting as ever for Raoul to finish getting ready, always slightly tardy despite their admonishments that he hurry. When they heard the sound of the carriage rolling up, Giovanni's head turned and Erik instinctively sank back into the shadows at the side of the house, unable to keep his nervousness totally in check.

He swallowed heavily as she prattled excuses to her father about why she was arriving early. Then the moment he dreaded came all too soon and her eyes fixed on him. Sensing her curiosity, Giovanni gestured towards the boy.

"Luciana, this is Erik, an apprentice of mine. Erik, my youngest daughter, Luciana."

Unsure, Erik took a tentative step forward. The two did not have an opportunity for further acquaintance; a voice from the door interrupted them.

"So you're Luciana," came a child's treble. The girl turned to find herself confronted with a penetrating blue gaze that only confirmed what the voice implied. It was a tone both threatened and belligerent.

In that moment, Erik realized that no amount of affection or schooling or guidance was likely to utterly erase the semi-feral personality Raoul had developed in their time as vagrants. Civility was a veneer beneath which was a young man who solved problems through violence and relied on instinct to guide him, however base or primal its judgments were.

At his side, the boy's hand twitched and Erik's heart grew cold. Then the moment passed like a cloud over the sun. Raoul came down the steps and brushed past her.

"Come along," he said haughtily, pulling Erik by the hand towards the carriage and away from her. "Or you will make us late for Mass."

Luciana stood silently for a moment, and Giovanni noticed both her subtle fixation with Erik and her ignorance regarding Raoul.

"Who is he?" She asked, and Giovanni did not need to inquire which 'he' she meant.

Something dreadful had been set into motion and he could only anticipate with a vague sense of terror how everything would resolve.

OOO

Erik stared resolutely at his plate, neither eating nor looking at any of the others at the table. Their dog, Sasha (named for his beloved first pet) lay across his feet and he considered slipping her some of the food. It would probably be too cruel, he thought. He did not say so, aloud, however.

Raoul had no such reservations. The minute she'd set the plate of what was presumably chicken in front of him, he'd turned it over onto the carpet. Giovanni had stopped in mid-forkful, Luciana had grown red and Erik sat, still as a stone, praying for everything to be over.

"I spent all _day_ on that!" She screeched.

"I'm not eating it. It's disgusting. It looks like vomit."

"You will eat it! You will! I did not work for nothing!"

"You can't make me!"

"Father, make him!"

"Luciana…"

"He doesn't want to eat it either. Nobody does."

"Erik will eat it!" Erik felt himself blush under the mask, fearing the attention.

"No he won't," Raoul snapped. "And he won't make me eat it. Look, it's still on the floor. Even Sasha knows better than to eat that mess!"

Luciana was clutching the back of her chair, trembling with rage as Raoul looked at her with a stony glare. With a swift motion, she dashed the chair to the floor and stomped over to the boy, meaning to strike him. Raoul's arm, quick as a dart, snatched his fork, making ready for whatever came. Fortunately for one or both, Giovanni stood before she reached him and held them apart.

"Settle down the both of you," he admonished gruffly. "And neither of you will be eating. You will both be going to your rooms without supper. And will be doing so every night until you learn how to behave yourselves at the table."

Luciana burst into tears and ran off to her room. Raoul lingered a moment longer and stared at Giovanni, as if he were trying to find something in the man's eyes. It was disconcerting to the architect and he reiterated his command.

"Go!"

Glancing sideways at Erik, Raoul saw him give a nearly imperceptible nod and then went quietly without further complaint. Once they were gone, Erik stood and began gathering the plates and taking them into the kitchen.

"I'll make you something," he said apologetically.

"You cannot make amends for Raoul's behavior, Erik," Giovanni said in a gentler tone, but did not stop him from clearing the table.

"You are getting older. You should not have to deal with… with this," he said, frustrated.

"You are young. You should not have to either. I know you are skilled Erik. But you are not a man; and it is not your place to assume a man's responsibilities."

Erik fell silent and went about preparing a simple dish of pasta. When he was finished, he served it, ate as quickly as possible, then retreated to his bedroom with Raoul. He had been, Giovanni noticed, doing that more of late; he would retreat to his room instantly without a word and stay there until called for dinner. Even then he was reluctant to come down.

Raoul, however, had become more petulant and disruptive than ever. Yet behind the boy's wild behavior there seemed to be something of a purpose, a method to his madness. It was undeniable that Raoul had disliked the girl even before she set foot inside the mansion. However, his acting out seemed to be motivated by more than simply enmity. He had become something of a twisted Luciana, demanding attention with bouts of violence the way that she commanded it through her ailments and pleadings.

Each fight was an opportunity to distract her and deflect attention away from Erik. Each battle was a change to malign her, to demonstrate her inadequacies by mocking her and pulling her down to his level, a boy six years her junior. In her idleness she might ponder the mystery that was Erik, but it was difficult to do so when be continually baited into arguments.

Anger at Raoul, Giovanni realized, was a diversion from fascination with Erik. Or so he assumed; and he was not altogether incorrect.

As Raoul lay beneath the covers and listened to Erik come in, he suppressed the hunger he felt as another concern began to creep over him. Luciana was a brat; but she was not without beauty. Her dark hair fell in perfect waves which Raoul fantasized about cutting off, just to spite her. It would be so easy to accomplish; he'd planned it out. She never locked her door, so all he would have to do was to sneak into the room at night and carefully hack it off, chop away silky chunks until there was nothing left but misshapen tufts. It was long enough that he could probably lift it off the pillow without her feeling anything. By the time she did there would be nothing left. Then he would burn it in her fireplace so that she would wake to the stench.

She would probably cry, he thought with a satisfied grin.

As if he could read Raoul's thoughts, Erik reached over and touched the boy's shoulder. Raoul flopped over to face him.

"Yes?"

"You shouldn't behave so, Raoul. She is his daughter. His _legitimate_ daughter," he emphasized softly.

The boy scoffed.

"Don't be stupid Erik. She's useless. You are what he wants. You are skilled and smart, you are his apprentice, you listen to him…"

"He loves her."

"And he doesn't love you?" Raoul challenged. A moment of silence passed and Raoul frowned. "You're wearing your mask, Erik. In _our_ room."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just…"

"Just what?" He asked in an injured tone. "Are you afraid she will come in? Afraid she will see you, that she'll scream?" Raoul demanded. "So what? You know she will. They always so, they're all the same; they're all dumb. Why hide? Will you hide from me to make her happy?"

Erik gazed at him painfully for a moment and then turned away.

"You are a child. You don't understand," he whispered. Then he stood and went to his own bed and blew out the candle.

In the darkness Raoul twisted the pillow angrily beneath his hands and cried hot, silent tears of impotent rage. He could not understand the illogic of Erik's attitude and the more he thought about the girl, the more her very image infuriated him. She was going to cause Erik pain before it was all over and for some reason he was too foolish to avoid it altogether. Worst of all was the dawning realization that there were needs for relationships which he could not fulfill for Erik. It had happened once already with the introduction of Giovanni into their lives. He had not taken them away from each other, however; he was tolerated because he provided a haven for them.

Luciana, however, was a destructive force that had the potential to pull them apart. Raoul's abhorrence for the girl ran so deeply that he could never reconcile the idea of Erik having any sort of connection to her which would be tolerable. It was either him or her.

The greatest fear came from the fact that he did not know for sure which Erik would choose if forced to pick.

On his side of the room, Erik was in an equal amount of turmoil, trying desperately to bury the wrenching feelings he felt whenever he saw the girl. Even Raoul's disruptive behavior could not draw his attention away entirely, and sometimes only served to mortify him more. He realized he was treading on familiar territory; the past had taught him to only expect rejection and Raoul reminded him of such at every opportunity. Women were faithless, fickle creatures, easily frightened and easily manipulated.

He bit his lip so hard it bled; he wished she would go away but found he could not make a move to encourage her to do so.

Down the hall, in his bedroom, Giovanni looked out of the window and wondered when the storm would break and whether he could stir himself to action before it did or if he would be a dumb spectator, watching the tragedy play itself out to completion.

OOO

Thank you once again for reading. Reviews are always appreciated, doubly so if they are constructive.


	8. Always Do

OOO

The coming of Luciana, it seemed, exacerbated every other problem or difficulty present in the arrangement the two boys had with Giovanni. Whispers about Erik's mask that had remained subdued, for fear of Giovanni and implications that Erik was his bastard, grew louder as Erik acted increasingly on edge and questions about why Raoul was there too were voiced once again. People began whispering monster – and Luciana could not help up to hear and flit about with the frenzy of an inner battle, caught between her wishes and her fears.

As Erik's irritation grew he started to work later, avoiding Luciana, Giovanni and even Raoul. In response, Raoul started to skulk around the site, watching him work from the edge of the sites and shooting dark glances at the men who whispered behind Erik's back. Erik suspected he was secreting away knives again, but the boy was getting better and he did not have the time or the patience to find everything he could hide.

"You need to stop this, Raoul," Erik admonished as they walked back in the dark.

"It's the only place I can see you," Raoul pouted. "You don't come home."

"The sites are no places for you Raoul; they are unsafe. And I don't want you threatening any of the men Raoul."

"I know my way around; I know how to be safe. And the men… they say terrible things!"

"And what you might do may only make it worse!" Erik's grip on the boy's shoulder tightened. "And I told you before, you should be going to school."

"School ended two weeks ago. And who would look out for you?"

"I can look after myself!" He replied with an incredulous laugh.

At this, Raoul tore away and ran into the house. For a moment, Erik stood in the dark, frozen, watching his brother disappear through the door. He only saw Raoul's retreating back but he could surmise the boy was crying. When he got inside, Raoul had already vanished and there was only Giovanni, sitting at the table.

"My brother…"

"In bed," Giovanni sighed wearily. "He ran up without saying anything."

"Perhaps Raoul and I could take a trip after my last project is finished," Erik suggested timidly. "Like we did before in the fall. Leave for a few weeks, observe architecture, take some sketches, stay away until…" He trailed off, leaving the wishful, bittersweet hope of Luciana's leaving unspoken.

"You think she will leave?" Giovanni looked at him, voicing what Erik feared.

"You could make her go," Erik whispered, not wanting such a conclusion but recognizing its necessity all the same.

"It would kill her," Giovanni rejoined softly. "I…"

"I know sir." Erik nodded. "I am afraid we have imposed upon your kindness for far too long. I will pack."

As he turned to go, he felt Giovanni take him by the arm.

"Don't be foolish, boy. Sit down, sit down."

Erik was pressed into a seat and sat in uncomfortable silence as Giovanni left for a moment, returning with a bottle of wine. Pouring them both glasses, he spoke of his past, his complicated relationship with his daughter – half exposition, half apology for his inability to control her. The elderly architect went on about ideals, about architecture, of God and men and women. Then, pressing a compass that had been a gift from his wife into the somewhat drunken boy's hands, he spoke of affection, of letting people inside and of trusting.

"No less a love than you have for your own charge," he whispered.

Erik nodded, half numb, looking at Giovanni with red-eyes that seemed as if they wanted to cry. "Sir, I… I mean…" He fumbled for words before lapsing into silence.

"Come," Giovanni said, leading him with a firm hand. "You must get to bed. I know how hard you work and you have had more than enough."

"Yes, yes… I know…" He clutched the compass to his chest.

The aged architect left Erik at the top of the stairs before shuffling off to his own bedroom, worrying that he would not be able to do right by all of the children in the house. Perhaps Erik was right, he thought, and a space of absence for the boys would be best for all of them. But his reliance on Erik had grown and, unless they slipped away in the middle of the night, he was sure that if Luciana were to know of their going she would press the issue. Regardless, it was a temporary salve at best – she would be there when they returned, if they left, and likely all the more irritated and eager.

Nothing to do then, he thought. Nothing to do at all.

OOO

Raoul was still reluctant to leave Erik's side when the heat of August finally returned. Luciana had not gone back to school which had only made him all the more agitated, regarding her as much of a threat as the malicious men who worked under Giovanni, a threat of a different and, to Raoul at least, more dangerous nature. The men he could handle, but Luciana…

He'd had a row one night and left a torn apart, stabbed doll in her bed that evening. The mutual furies of Erik and Giovanni had been incredible and Raoul had quailed in the face of their rage. He could do nothing against the little beast that could stir the others to sympathy, do nothing to make them see what she was and it gnawed at him.

Then he woke one day to angry shouts again, though these not of his doing.

"Leave them alone!"

"If they don't work, what does it matter?" There was a smash. "That doesn't work!" Another crash. "Or that one now either!"

"Do not touch them!"

"Why? It is my house, I may touch what I please!"

Raoul ran to the top of the basement stairs and clambered down to see Erik kneeling on the floor, hands running through the broken shards of numerous inventions. Luciana was still tearing about the room, red-faced and reaching for more of the shelved objects as Erik sat there, numb and mortified, gaping at the destruction.

With an incoherent cry, Raoul ran down the rest of the way and launched himself at the girl. They tumbled to the flooring, bringing down more of the contents of the shelves, and he reached for a piece of broken glass which he dragged across her arms. Her shrieks pierced the air and it was only a few moment before he felt Erik's hands on him, pulling him off.

Luciana fled upstairs into the waiting arms of Giovanni, who too had heard the ruckus and come to see what was happening.

"He cut me!" She wailed, proffering her arm.

"Luciana!' He thundered. "What did you think you were doing down there!"

"I'll kill you!" Raoul bellowed at the top of his small lungs. "I'll kill you, you destroyed his work, I'll kill you!"

"Raoul!" Erik wrenched the glass away then smacked him. It was not particularly hard – but it was a physical violence Raoul was unused to being directed towards him. Erik's Voice could be terrible, to be sure; but he had never touched him, not like that.

At the top of the stairs, Giovanni was roundly berating the still-wailing girl. Pushing past them, Raoul ran and Erik followed after, panicked at seeing everything falling to pieces.

"You see what you have done!" Giovanni pointed after them.

"He's a wretched little beast!" She sobbed. "I don't see why Erik cares for him! And I am bleeding…"

"It is barely a scratch," Giovanni snapped, suddenly nauseated and unsympathetic at her willingness to tear apart Erik's labors. "And of course he loves the boy – they are as brothers."

"They're not related," she sniffed. "They could not be! Raoul is so… Erik is a genius and Raoul is a nasty brat!"

"They love one another," Giovanni went on. "Can you not see what you are doing to them? Are you so selfish…"

She fled, refusing to listen to the rest of the reprimand and he, already weary from the argument, found himself unable to follow. The boys had already gone and the best he could hope for was that they would come back.

OOO

Erik caught up to the boy when he finally tripped from exhaustion and lay down in the grass.

"Raoul, I am sorry!" He gasped. "But you could have killed her!"

"I should have!" Tears spilled down his cheeks. "She was destroying your work! All your work, everything you made – did you not want to hurt her?" Erik looked off into the distance, silent. "I did it for _you!_"

"Raoul… Raoul, please."

"Don't love her more," Raoul whispered and crawled into Erik's arms. "I love you always and forever, don't love her more. Don't, don't, don't, she will go away but I will not, you are all I've got…"

Erik sat and rocked as the sun climbed in the sky and then, still holding Raoul in his arms, began the trek home. The day was stifling and hot and it was with a sense of relief that they walked into the cooler, now-quiet darkness of the house. Laying Raoul into his bed, Erik went back downstairs, not seeing Luciana much to his relief. He gave a brief, apologetic nod to Giovanni.

"I am going down to the site," he whispered and Giovanni let him pass without any other exchange.

As he made his way down, Erik wondered what type of brother he was, what type of brother he'd become that he could no longer bear to act on his own behalf and prioritized a child whose affections and attachments he could not trust over his unswervingly loyal brother. What type of brother was he, anyway, who had raised a docile, cheerful little boy to become a child at ease with the idea of tearing apart a girl for offending them, slicing her apart for behaving in a way he took to be a threat?

The teen could feel the weight of his own failures settling on his shoulders, with the greatest looming like a guillotine above his neck.

OOO

Back at the house, Luciana had come down the stairs, bandaged and insisting to her father that she _would_ know what was behind the mask. And when Erik finally returned home, exhausted and wanting nothing more to sleep, it was the first thing she demanded. Raoul, who had been hovering tensely in the background, stepped forward at the demand and Giovanni stood at attention.

The tragedy, the old man realized dimly, was reaching it's climax.

"You must excuse me," he stammered after she made her demand.

"No!" She shrieked. "I will know! I demand to know!"

Erik made for the steps when, quite suddenly, Raoul stepped in front of him, diminutive but defiant.

"Fine," he trebled. "You want to see? Do it, Erik. Do it and see what happens. I do not mind. You need not wear it for me. Those who love you… Remove your mask and you remove hers!" He cried out. "See what she really is!"

Raoul's argument had come to its point and, fearful, Erik looked over at Giovanni. For a moment, the man paused, having the distinct feeling as though they were all at the edge of a precipice. And, despite his own myriad mistakes, his ineffectiveness, Erik had given him power and control in this last moment, the ability to shape the outcome.

Such a gift, he realized, was not to be wasted or misused; and ultimately, he felt it should not be his decision to make.

"As you will, Erik," he replied, giving the choice back. "I will not permit Raoul or Luciana to compel you to do anything you do not wish."

Slowly, Erik nodded, drawing nearer to Giovanni. He looked up at the older man, pained and weighed down. When they were facing one another, Erik looked at the floor.

"This won't end any other way, will it?"

"I… I cannot say for sure. But I do not think so," Giovanni admitted wearily.

Erik nodded as if this were the conclusion he too had come to.

"Very well, mademoiselle. You insist?" His voice sounded dead and pained.

"Yes!" She balled up her fists petulantly. "If Raoul doesn't mind… I will prove you wrong!" She pointed at him.

With a sigh, Erik reached up and unfastened the mask. Behind him, Giovanni steeled himself; Erik's back was to him, but Raoul was watching, and if he glimpsed and flinched, who could say what the child might do? He caught the briefest sidelong glance and did not move; instead pity welled within him. It was as bad and as ostracizing as anything he could have ever surmised or imagined.

Luciana, however, was in full view of his face – and she was horrified. Terror played across her features and when he reached out, a last gesture of futile hope, she threw her arms up and fled to the parapet.

"You see? You see?" Raoul cried out, weeping. "All the same."

"Luciana…" Erik's voice pleaded and he took a tentative step.

"Stay away!" She shrieked, flinging herself against the parapet, as far away from him as possible up on the balcony.

Then a horrible crack, which would stay with those present at the scene for years to come, split the air. Beneath the slight girl, the crumbling parapet finally tumbled to the ground in a rush of dust and marble, taking Luciana with it. A final cry, then everything went silent for a moment as the dust settled on the earth several stories down.

The air pressed out of Erik's lungs, a disbelieving sound of grief and self-blame. Giovanni went over to the boy and heard him rambling to himself.

"I should have left, I should have left, she had no need to see, no need…"

Meanwhile Raoul had gone up to the edge, fearless of whether more of it might fall. He looked down with approval on the gruesome destruction below, as if it had been a deliberate act, punishment by the hand of God.

"I knew she would scream," he sniffed, with a hint of smug, malicious satisfaction. Then he turned and went over to Giovanni, who was still holding onto the mortified, grief-stricken Erik. "You did not scream," he said, as though Giovanni had at last passed some test, before going into the house without the slightest pretense of grief or mourning.

"She insisted," Giovanni murmured helplessly. "She always did insist…"

He held onto Erik, checking his own tears to let the boy have his.

OOO

So I finally updated. I got to see a performance at the West End and it was inspiring. :) Hope you forgive the delay – quite inexcusable. Also in the world of PotO – a summary of the first act of the sequel has been released. Anybody other than me incredibly nervous about this? Anyway. Review, if you so choose, and I will try to be timelier with the next chapter.


	9. Passing On

~*~

Raoul dug his heels into the side of the horse to spur it into galloping faster. There was dust kicking up everywhere as the animal drew nearer and nearer to the construction site. His goal in sight, the boy pulled it up short and jumped off, running towards a figure standing on a block as fast as he could.

"Erik!" He tugged his brother's sleeve. "Erik, you must come as quickly as possible!"

He looked down at the twelve-year-old boy. "Father?"

"Yes. He is calling for you." Raoul was pale, a rare sight. "It isn't good, Erik."

"Keep working!" He called out to the men in his Voice. "I don't want to hear of you slacking when I return." Another time years ago and he might have hesitated; another time and the men would have been unwilling. But it had been years since the mason had taken them in an gradually given Erik more and more responsibility, gradually looked for men who would see his genius and not what he was hiding.

He jumped on to the back of the horse and held on to Raoul as the boy drove the animal home, both keeping their silence. When they reached the house, it was more of the same, the place already still as a tomb. Raoul lagged behind his brother as they walked up the steps to the room where Giovanni was laying down in his bed."

"Father?" Erik knelt beside him as the old man lifted his hands to wave the nurse away. Erik slipped off the mask and looked at him. "I wish you would let me tend to you, father."

"Nothing you can do, Erik. We both know that. Better that you remain on the site, where you can use your skills and be of use to the men and to me."

"You're dying."

"I have been for a while," he replied with a wry smile. "But yes, it is nearer now I think." He took Erik's hand. "You've been a good boy, Erik. I'm proud of you, though I suspect you don't need me to tell you that. And Raoul," he said looking beyond Erik to the younger boy who then drew closer, "you are growing into a fine young man."

"You aren't dying!" Raoul teared up. "You can't be!"

"I am afraid it is not me decision," he replied with a cough.

"Erik can fix you, he knows wonderful cures!"

"He has done all he can to make me comfortable, but some matters are beyond even Erik." He took Raoul by the hand. "Promise me you will continue to be diligent in your studies, that you will listen to Erik. Can you do your best?"

"Yes papa," the boy murmured as he wept.

Giovanni nodded. He was afraid that, even after all of his years of education and attention, the boy still had a streak in him that would not be tampered or tamed. But he had done all he could and it was out of his hands now.

"Take care of each other," he said softly. "As you did when I found you. You have been the twin lights of my life in my final years. I could not have asked for better sons, for better heirs." Luciana went unmentioned; her tragedy had no place in their goodbye.

"I will always make you proud, father," Erik affirmed. "Such buildings as you would have wept to see."

"I will see them Erik." He squeezed both of their hands. "I will watch over you always." Then he closed his eyes and a great stillness settled over his flesh.

"Is father gone?" Raoul asked.

Erik reached a spindly hand down and felt for a pulse that he knew wouldn't be there. "Yes Raoul. He's gone."

The younger boy lowered his head onto the silent chest and sobbed while Erik straightened up and replaced his mask. "I will go and tell the men. They will have to be informed. And after that…" He shook his head. "I will play you a mass, father, such as mass as has never been heard, as would make the angel weep to hear it in Heaven."

"Father would have loved it," Raoul said, tears still dripping. "Father always loved your music." He lifted his hear and looked at Erik. "Will we be alright, Erik, with father gone? Are we going to have to begin moving again?"

Erik shook his head. "Not this time Raoul. I do not believe so."

"But the men…"

"The men we have now have come to trust me." He smiled. "It does no harm that they are some of the most highly paid men with the best care that can be afforded in the business. If there is an incident we might have to. But I do not believe there will be one."

"What of the customers? You know how they have balked at dealing with you in the past."

"That is what I have you for." He stroked his brother's hair softly. "In a few years, regardless. I will have to find somebody I can trust in the meanwhile to help me operate the front of the business. But I believe that we will be able to manage. Now come." He made sure the dead man's eyes were firmly shut. "We must dress the house for mourning and make the funeral arrangements.

The preparations only took a few days, but to Raoul they felt like weeks. Everything had been draped in black and Erik was constantly away. When he was not speaking to the priest or writing letters to let other architects who had been close to Giovanni, he was down in the basement feverishly working away at the requiem which he'd mentioned.

Raoul heard snatches of it late at night, drifting up the stairs, and he cried into his pillow when he heard them. Their father, their rock, their stability was gone and in spite of all of Erik's assurances, he feared their own tragedy and separation.

He feared all through the thundering mass that elicited sobs from all present. He feared it as they lowered his adoptive father's coffin into the ground. He feared it as he lay flowers across the magnificently hewn headstone that had been carved by Erik himself. It kept him up at night and distracted him from his studies, instead wanted to listen to the whispers of the men, always fearful of a change in attitude against them.

Nothing, however, happened to warrant his fears. Giovanni's remaining daughter came but briefly with her husband, took her share of the will and vanished without further lingering. The bulk of the estate went to Erik, with Raoul in his charge, and the business continued on much the same as it ever had before Giovanni's death. Erik's ambition gradually stretched, his reputation gradually grew, but nothing happened that indicated any sort of immediate jeopardy.

Little by little, Raoul relaxed and grew used to life without Giovanni, just as he'd grown used to life under him. Weeks rolled by, then months, then a year and then two. And despite the changes that had happened, Giovanni's house – Erik's house – was still their home.

But it was always brightest, right before the night.

~*~

"Working on a new commission?" Raoul looked at the myriad papers spread across Erik's desk. "Something exciting? Something wonderful?" His eyes were shining. "Or something merely routine?"

"Routine, I'm afraid," Erik said with a knowing smile.

"Oh." He said down, looking disappointed.

"But, while I must unfortunately occupy myself with routine work, your summer has the potential to be a little more exciting."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well," Erik went on as he continued to scrawl plans, "as you are nearly fifteen, and as I have matters well in hand here, I thought you might like to strike off on your own for a while. Do you own explorations, your own soul searching. It has been a long time since either of us traveled on a trip of any length and I know you have been restless."

"You would let me?" Raoul jumped up. "You trust me?"

"I know you are more than able to take care of yourself. You have been for a long time. Keep in mind that I will expect you to write, however. Else I would grow far too worried."

"Yes, yes of course." His head bobbed up and down. "So where could I go? Where will you let me? Any ideas? Italy? Switzerland? England?"

"Anywhere you please, within reason," Erik laughed. "I'm afraid I draw the line at Russia."

"The north, then, I think," Raoul said with a clap of his hands. "We traveled through the south of Europe so extensively as children. I do love it, but I think I would like to see something new. Old castles, ancient ruins, the ocean up north where it's grey and rocky…"

"Of course," Erik teased. "What is the shimmering Mediterranean compared to that?"

"You said I could go where I pleased within reason," Raoul retorted in a confident voice. "And that's where I want to go."

"And so I did and so you shall," said Erik with a nod.

From that point on, Raoul packed and prepared incessantly until his moment of departure. Letting go of his brother for the first time was a wrenching moment, frightening in some ways but also tremendously exciting. As he left, he looked back every so often until the house was completely out of site. After that, his attention was fixed ahead on the road, looking forward to see what would come next.

It was nature he chose to explore, rather than the architectural marvels he and Erik had looked at of old. Cliffs and breakers were substituted in place of cathedrals and aqueducts. Though it was summer, the weather hap rapidly grown chilly the further north he ventured and he felt glad he'd thought to bring along heavier clothing. At first he wrote assiduously, but thoughts of his brother grew fainter and he lapsed in his duties, sending letters only every so often. He meandered alone, feeling independent and excited to be so.

The lack of human contact did not last, however. As he was riding along the shore one morning, a splash of bright red bobbing on the surf caught his eye. On a whim, he spurred the horse he was riding into the water after the object. Upon retrieval, he found it was a scarf, and when he returned to the shore there was a young girl looking relieve.

"Thank you, monsieur!" She blushed and reached for the fabric which he duly handed over with a stiff nod. "I feared that it was gone forever!"

She did not sop thanking him and, to his irritation, continued to follow him, chattering all the while. After a short time and older man, who he soon learned was her father, joined them and the girl launched into a rapturous and quasi-heroic account of the rescue of her scarf. The man glanced at Raoul who tried to smile and remain polite.

"…and we must invite him over for dinner, papa!" She begged. "Please?"

"I have no objections, so long as he agrees, Christine. Do you mind, sir?" The man, who had introduced himself between his daughters raptures as Charles Daae, directed the request to Raoul, who shrugged.

He had gone without company for a while, so he felt it couldn't be so bad to spend the occasional evening in human company. He finished exercising his horse, returned to the room he'd rented to change and then went back to the address the older gentleman have given him, hoping all the while that the girl would not chatter all night.

When he reached the home, he found a table set with several places.

"Is someone else joining us?" He asked the older man.

"Yes," he said as the servants began to set out the dishes. "Another French family is vacationing near here, a wealthier family. The De Chagnys. I hope you do not mind?"

A memory stirred in Raoul's mind and he felt his stomach drop, but he shook his head. "Not at all."

~*~

A/N: Updated in honor of my 8-year anniversary on the site. Hopefully it will be a positive indication of updates to come, now that the plot is finally moving forward once more. And if you like it, drop a review. :)


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